The
Hare
You
came to be so restless
Running errands for the moon
In
circles over the earth
With barely place to reside.
She
made you of the copper
Of her rising in the heat,
Of
dim tin, obscured by cloud,
Of her silver apogee.
She
founded bronze to outlast
The summers grass you press down.
Rarely
has thought been so quick
On its feet, or been so far.
She
filled you to the ear-tips,
To the white bunt with desire.
Started
from among the tufts
And gone as the vaned seed blows,
She
charged you with her charmed ring
That turns me to a suitor.